


Water in the Desert

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [256]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 15:28:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10856814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: A nightmarish reality.





	Water in the Desert

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Emila-Wan and Carol  
> Mali Wane for posting to the Master Apprentice ML  
> Travis for posting to the Master Apprentice Archive on AO3   
> Alex for inspiring Arcadia 
> 
> References:  
> [Rainbow Railroad](https://www.rainbowrailroad.ca/)  
> [Crushing the High Bar](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10669476)  
> [Irish Lullabies - Lullaby Link](http://www.lullaby-link.com/irish-lullabies.html)  
> [Brassed Off – BritFilms for Abitur 2015](https://britfilmsforabitur2015brassedoff.wordpress.com/2015/02/13/brassed-off/)
> 
> **WARNING - This story deals with concentration camps in Chechnya. Please do not read if it's too traumatic.**

"No!" Ian shivered himself awake, as cold sweat glued him to the fitted sheet.

If Quinn hadn't been beside him in their bed, Ian would have thrashed and bucked with the dark force of his nightmare. But fortunately, his Master -- no, his former Master -- no, his _husband_ \-- was there, exuding an aura of serenity, even while he was asleep.

Then Quinn's eyes snapped open, and he instantly realized what had happened. He took Ian in his arms, petting and cuddling him. He used the top sheet to dry the sweat from Ian's chest and arms, a tender glide over his skin that comforted him more than words.

"Ben, my Ben, I've got you. It's okay," Quinn crooned. He sang the lullaby -- "Tura Lura Lural" -- that he'd hummed a couple of weeks ago, when Ian had gotten an unwanted kiss from Armie Hux, one of the gymnasts he coached. Luckily, it had the same soothing effect now as it had then, and Ian relaxed into his embrace.

For some reason, after each nightmare, Ian woke up believing that his name was Ben. Perhaps it was because his middle name was Benjamin, but Quinn didn't think the Prentices had ever used it, even when Ian was a child. Quinn did not want to further traumatize his lad, so he called him Ben until Ian was completely awake and free of the phantom menace.

Ian had told Quinn that he could never remember the way his dreams ended, only vague images of being lost in a never-ending desert. Sometimes, he'd be trapped in the middle of a sandstorm, with no place to go for shelter. Twin suns would beat down on him with their relentless heat, turning his bones to dust.

Then, there were the dreams of lightsabers sizzling in a deadly blaze of red and blue. Somehow, these were even worse than the others. Quinn would try to cheer him up, saying, "You've watched 'The Revenge of the Sith' once too often, me boyo," getting a wan half-smile in return.

Quinn could hear Ian muttering, "I have a bad feeling about this," into his pillow, even now.

"Don't center on your anxieties, Ian," Quinn whispered. "Be with me here and now." He cradled his husband even closer against his chest, gentling his hands to brush over arms which were still faintly quivering.

For the past three months, Ian had suffered through the return of the night terrors he'd had before they'd met. Tonight's dream was no surprise, because their evening had been so grim. He and Ian had been forced to tackle a subject that was beyond dreadful.

Concentration camps.

Quinn shuddered at the very thought, which evoked the horrors of Nazi Germany. Terrifying! Ever since he'd found out that they were rounding up gay men in Chechnya and forcing them into concentration camps, his focus had been on how to help them.

_Earlier..._

Ian had asked Coach Rance if they could hold a special gymnastics meet for the cause at the Luke Arena, and Rance had given him an enthusiastic "Yes!" and plenty of help in setting it up. Both the women's and men's Skyhawks teams had performed last week, and they'd gone all out, throwing their biggest tricks, even though their NCAA meets were over for the year.

Ian had researched organizations dedicated to helping the prisoners and settled on an ideal group. Upon his recommendation, the Skyhawks gave 100% of the proceeds to Rainbow Railroad, a Canadian charity committed to rescuing the Chechen victims. Fortunately, the tickets had sold out within hours, and they had made thousands of dollars in donations.

A couple of days later, he and Ian had met with their friends at Luke-Loves, and Quinn broached the idea of a rally in front of the Student Center, which would also be a fund-raiser for Rainbow Railroad. The members of Luke-Loves had plastered posters all over campus for the past week. They'd held the rally at six o'clock that evening, so the maximum number of students would see the protest while there for dinner.

Fifteen hundred and twenty-five people had shown up -- a sea of rainbow colors, flags, and signs. It had taken Quinn's breath away. He and Ian, along with Case and Billie, Ethan and Bant, and Evan proudly marched around the quadrangle together, basking in the cheers and applause of the protesters and passers-by, as they tried to raise awareness in the folks milling around them. Many of the onlookers winded up joining the rally themselves.

Quinn's sign was written in bold green letters on a white background and said, "Love is an irresistible Force," while Ian's sign had cobalt-blue lettering, which said, "Genocide is an abomination." They shone in the brightly lit quadrangle and probably in the Force itself.

The outpouring of support was inspirational, and they'd made even more money for charity than they had with the gymnastics meet. And Case had additional good news for them -- the Departmental Council had voted to allow the English Department to match the money earned at tonight's rally, using discretionary funds. The message could not have been clearer to Quinn and Ian -- We've got your backs.

Quinn was delighted to see the return of Ian's grin when they walked alongside their friends in the cool air of an evening in early May. He seemed to get happier and happier as the march went on. After it was over, they hugged their friends goodnight and went inside the Student Center, leaving their signs on the Luke-Loves table set up near the entrance. The men waved as they headed for the upholstered chairs by a window overlooking the library.

Ian had been just like Quinn loved to see him -- bubbling with life and energy.

"Wow! That was great," Ian said. "I've never been prouder to be a Skyhawk than I am today." He started to tap his Williamsburg boots on the carpet.

Quinn nodded in complete agreement. "It's wonderful to see that people care about helping out." His eyes sparkled deep blue. "So many folks showed up for us."

Ian closed his eyes in quiet gratitude. Luke was truly a second home to both of them.

"Where to now, lad?" asked Quinn, putting his hand on Ian's shoulder.

"I'm too buzzed to go home yet," Ian answered, just as Quinn had expected. "How 'bout eating at Billaba's?"

Quinn nodded. "Fair enough, as long as you don't order dessert." He chuckled. "The sugar rush will send you into hyperspace and power you all the way to Coruscant."

Ian's lopsided smile was priceless.

Ever courtly, Quinn had volunteered to get their meal, leaving Ian seated in a booth near a flat-screen TV, which happened to have on a local channel that was broadcasting the rally. Quinn had to wait on a long line, but he didn't mind at all, figuring that crowds were a wonderful thing to boost awareness of their cause.

After about fifteen minutes, Quinn got to the front of the line and ordered their meal. He chose all of Ian's favorites -- grape leaves, spanakopita, and lamb gyros. He paid for the meal, leaving a tip in the cup, and took their iced teas with him when he went back to the table to wait for it to be ready. He quietly hoped that the successful demonstration, along with this little bit o' delicious heaven, would help break the cycle of Ian's nightmares once and for all.

Ian nodded to the television screen with a grin. "Channel QXO is covering the protest."

"Ah, 'tis a blessing, little lad," said Quinn. "Now thousands more will find out about what's going on in Chechnya."

They watched the coverage in silence for the next little while, smiling when one of the newscasters gave a glowing editorial about the march, even mentioning the earlier gymnastics fund-raiser.

"Glad we got to see this," said Ian, then sipped his iced tea. "It's really snowballing."

Quinn's crinkles came out to play. "Never forget that it _is_ possible to change the world, Ian." He went to check on their order, which had just come out, and brought it back to their booth.

Now the men were silent while they ate dinner. They tapped their spanakopita triangles together, both of them remembering their wedding reception at the Sunset Ballroom, where spanakopita had been a stand-out appetizer. Ian gave some of his grape leaves to Quinn but couldn't resist poaching a spoonful of tzatziki sauce from him to spread on his gyro.

When they were done, Ian gave his herven a grateful grin and bussed their trays. They didn't bother to stop at Taton Hall, since they already had the books and papers they needed at home. So they headed straight for the parking lot in back of Taton to find the THX, so Quinn could drive them to Alder Run.

Quinn had the ragtop down tonight, because the weather was beautiful, with a breeze just meant to ruffle their hair. There was a bit more traffic than usual, probably due to the protest, so it took them twenty-two minutes to get home. Artoo and Sandy were staying at the Changs tonight, since their dads knew it would be a long day.

Quinn locked up for the night, and they undressed, leaving on only their boxer-briefs, then washed up and used the facilities. They got into bed, never too tired for a kiss or four, and settled down to sleep for a few hours.

Then, the nightmares had started, with the "No!" torn from Ian's throat, and Quinn's comforting him afterwards.

Now...

So that left Quinn with an armful of dozing laddie at some dismal hour of the night, when even the crickets knew better than to be awake. He looked at the clock, wincing when he saw 4:53 a.m. staring back at him in blue LCD numerals. Then he looked out the window, only to see that the sky was as dark as Ian's dreams had been. At least his lad was drowsing now and would hopefully fall into deep sleep soon. Quinn still sang softly to him, drifting into his version of the Ballyeamon Cradle Song, adapted for his husband, and he was lulling himself to sleep, along with Ian.

"Sleep, sleep, grah mo chree {sweetheart}  
Here on your (herven's) knee  
Angels are guarding  
And they watch o’er thee."

Ian briefly stirred during the lullaby, mumbling something like, "You're better than water in the desert, ma gradh," to Quinn before going back to sleep.

Quinn gave him an incandescent smile and a loving squeeze, but his tired thoughts kept drifting back to his Chechen brothers. Ian's dreams, as well as their efforts to help the prisoners, almost guaranteed that they would be his main focus.

Even in the United States, as hard as it was for him to believe sometimes, he had always known that being gay could put a target on your back. Unfortunately, he and Ian had experienced this first-hand -- with some of their family members, the occasional student or tradesman, and Prudence.

It hurt.

He'd been grateful for all of the progress in the past decade and a half, and was hoping it would continue into the future. Most LGBT students on campus were blissfully unaware of how bad things had been, what with hate and prejudice, even in the recent past, and he wished that they'd never have a rude awakening.

Quinn knew that one of the antidotes to bigotry was a strong LGBT history curriculum and fortunately, Luke had one in place. However, it was elective, so many of the folks who most needed it did not take the courses.

He was frighteningly aware of just how fragile progress could be. So many organizations, along with entire nations, were hoping to turn back the clock. It was a miracle that Quinn hadn't suffered through nightmares, as well. His philosophy of living in the here and now was helpful in staving off the dread; he was focused on each little step in fighting back. It would be easy to become overwhelmed otherwise. He'd tried to teach this to Ian, but his lad marched to the tune of a different French horn.

Quinn remembered what he'd told Ian when they first heard of the Chechen atrocities. "There's so much hate in the world, laddie, and the only ways to defeat it are love and education."

Ian had smiled and said, "Well, we've certainly got the love," pausing for a sweet kiss, "and the education comes with the territory," as he waved his hand at the Luke University calendar on their refrigerator.

Sometimes, it was hard to be optimistic, especially with horrors like those in Chechnya happening in the world. But events like the rally tonight gave Quinn a priceless gift.

A new hope.


End file.
